Work Text:
Tsukishima knows the second Akaashi walks in the door from work what kind of night it’s going to be.
“Rough day?” He asks as soon as he sees the tight line of Akaashi’s lips and spine, shutting his textbooks and shoving them all off to the side. He’s done enough studying for one night already, anyways, and even if he hadn’t this would take precedence.
This always took precedence.
“It was fine.”
Akaashi’s eyes give away the falsity of his words and his even tone. They’re like the brewing storm clouds preceding a hurricane, and Tsukishima is a man in the desert dying of dehydration.
“Hm.” Tsukishima hums to himself, walking over to where Akaashi is standing at the kitchen island, loosening his tie with tense shoulders. He presses his chest flush against Akaashi’s back and winds his arms around the other’s middle. He can already feel his boyfriend start to melt against him, and kisses the spot just below his ear before whispering in a hushed, sweet voice that he knows drives a stressed and frustrated Akaashi absolutely mad: “Wanna do a little practicing tonight?”
Akaashi exhales raggedly, which Tsukishima has learned over time is the equivalent of a completely wrecked groan coming from him. He covers Tsukishima’s hands with his own, squeezing tight.
“Yeah. Yes. Please.”
Not even five minutes later, Tsukishima finds himself in a position he’s all too intimately familiar with: perched in the seat in front of Akaashi’s vanity with his boyfriend standing between his legs, dabbing a makeup sponge across every inch of his face.
Tsukishima didn’t realize how little he really knew about Akaashi until he started dating him.
By nature, Akaashi was a pretty reserved guy, which Tsukishima always liked about him. He didn’t talk too much, or overshare. Didn’t prattle on endlessly about his day or his interests like some other people Tsukishima knew. He answered when someone asked him a question, and he gave information about himself only when it was necessary.
Tsukishima always liked that about the older boy, until he found himself wanting to know so much more.
“What do you like to do?” Tsukishima blurted out one day, unable to help himself.
Akaashi looked up from the book in his lap, only slightly startled by the outburst. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Tsukishima flailed his hands around, searching for the right words. It wasn’t very often that he found himself in this kind of position, asking for more. With Kuroo and Bokuto, simple, trivial things like this came easily. It was getting the other two to stop talking that was the hard part.
But Akaashi… Akaashi was different and Tsukishima simultaneously loved and wanted to strangle him for it.
His boyfriend sat patiently and waited for Tsukishima to collect his thoughts.
“Do you have any hobbies?” Tsukishima finally decided on.
He hadn’t known, as the question left his lips, just how much it would change their relationship forever.
Akaashi didn’t answer for a few seconds, then calmly shut his book and set it on the table next to him, rising to his feet and holding out a hand for Tsukishima to take.
“I do, actually. I can show you, if you’d like.”
Tsukishima took Akaashi’s hand without hesitating.
Akaashi led him to his room and sat him down in the chair in front of his vanity. On top of the desk there was nothing out of the ordinary - a comb, some hair product, deodorant. But then, Akaashi had pulled the top drawer of the vanity desk open, and Tsukishima had to blink a few times to fully take in all of the various cosmetic products that came spilling out.
He had been confused at first, but Akaashi had explained to him in a perfectly level voice that he enjoyed practicing makeup in his spare time. While the cadence of his voice didn’t change once, Tsukishima saw the telltale nerves in the way Akaashi pulled at his fingers, twisting them together as he told Tsukishima about always being transfixed when watching his mother put her makeup on, and how he used to practice on his female friends in high school before classes. Even got good enough that they all asked him to do their makeup for prom.
The more he talked about it, the more Tsukishima saw his boyfriend start to relax. The words began to flow from Akaashi’s lips more freely than Tsukishima had ever seen before, and his eyes lit up when he started talking about all the color theory that he studied in art classes to get better at it, all the blending tutorial videos he watched on YouTube late at night when his parents thought he was asleep.
Tsukishima didn’t understand most of what he was talking about, but what he did understand was that he finally found it - he finally found the thing Akaashi was most passionate about, and listening to him talk about it was like falling in love with him all over again.
“Can I - Can I see?” Tsukishima asked quietly.
Akaashi’s eyes widened. “Are you…sure?”
Tsukishima nodded.
With slightly shaky hands, Akaashi reached up and gently removed Tsukishima’s glasses.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”
That day had been the first time Akaashi did Tsukishima’s makeup, but it was far from the last.
“This foundation is starting to get too dark for your complexion. You need to get out in the sun more.”
“Hm. Too cold out.”
“Fine then, you can pay for a paler shade.”
Tsukishima hums easily in agreement, too hazy to bicker efficiently in this state. Akaashi huffs an amused laugh.
“You’re so cute like this, Kei.”
Tsukishima’s mind buzzes pleasantly.
“Are you trying to say ’m not always cute?”
Akaashi laughs, a soft little rumble in the core of his chest that always puts Tsukishima at ease.
“Of course not, love.”
After that first time Akaashi practiced on him, Tsukishima quickly realized that his boyfriend wasn’t the only one who benefitted from doing his makeup, because Tsukishima - lord help him - had liked getting his makeup done by Akaashi.
He had liked it a lot.
If it had been anyone else but Akaashi, the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the warm, safe feeling that wrapped around his heart like a weighted blanket wouldn’t have been the same, he’s sure, but still. He loved the experience - every little thing about it.
He hadn’t expected to, he really didn’t. When he offered to let Akaashi do his makeup, he was only trying to make Akaashi happy. He wanted to hear his boyfriend talk more about the thing he loved, wanted to somehow be a part of it.
But then, Akaashi had told him to close his eyes, held him with a gentle grip on his chin, and Tsukishima just fell to pieces.
He wanted to cry with how good it felt, to just shut out the rest of the world and give himself away to the sensations of Akaashi’s fingers dancing across his skin and the soft brushes he swept over his eyelids and cheekbones. He didn’t have a single thought or care in the world, just turned himself over into Akaashi’s hands that he trusted so unequivocally and let the rest fade away.
Being a full-time anthropology student, a part-time intern at the city museum, and living in an apartment with these people, Tsukishima never really had time to let his mind rest. He was constantly worried about one thing or another, and it felt like he was running himself right into the ground some days. But in that moment, every thought in his head came to a screeching halt, replaced with a soft, fuzzy blanket of pleasure and comfort.
By the time Akaashi got to his mascara, Tsukishima really was crying, and they had to take a good, long break before they could continue. Akaashi didn’t ask Tsukishima why he was crying, because somehow Akaashi knew, the way he always did.
Akaashi and Tsukishima both struggled with anxiety in their own ways. While Akaashi soothed his by taking control, Tsukishima never felt more at ease than when he completely gave it up. Just let himself disappear into the feeling of Akaashi’s fingertips dancing delicately across his cheekbones and eyelids, tilting his chin this way and that, whispering pretty words into his ears and brushing his blonde curls behind his ears with a tenderness that made his ribs ache.
The room remains mostly quiet, only the occasional pop of a brush being pulled out of a tube and the music filtering softly from Akaashi’s phone that he always plays when he does Tsukishima’s makeup. He knows that silence puts Tsukishima on edge, which is why he constantly needs music playing in the background so the edges of his mind always have something to latch on to.
After going through this routine countless times by now, Tsukishima has started to memorize it, to anticipate each step.
It always starts with something clear and silky that Akaashi smoothes over his skin with the tips of his fingers. Primer. Then, there’s the liquid foundation that Akaashi dabs onto his face with a pink oval sponge with a finger under his chin, tilting his face this way and that to cover every spot evenly. Next, comes Tsukishima’s favorite parts.
As much as he loves Akaashi’s hands on his face, he really loves the brushes.
There’s a big fluffy one that covers his entire face in loose powder and tickles his nose and runs all the way from his hairline down his neck to the collar of his shirt. ”Blending it all the way down,” Akaashi tells him. Then, a long skinny one that brushes something that makes the tops of Tsukishima’s cheekbones shimmer when the light catches them just right. And finally - the best part of all - the eyeshadow.
Throughout the entire routine, Tsukishima sinks further and further into that pleasant headspace only Akaashi and his makeup brushes can put him into, but it’s always the eyes that are his final undoing.
Akaashi is always especially gentle with the delicate skin of Tsukishima’s eyelids, and while all he can see is darkness, every single one of his other senses are twice as sensitive. Akaashi’s fingers trailing over his cheeks and the curve of his jaw, holding him steady, and the silky brush bristles moving in mesmerizing patterns over his eyelids lull him deeper and deeper, feeling like brands on his skin.
Tsukishima likes that thought. Like the makeup Akaashi is painting onto his face is his brand, and Tsukishima belongs solely to him.
(Well, almost solely.)
“Just a little in the corners, not too much,” Akaashi explains as he lifts the eyeliner pencil to Tsukishima’s eye. Not that Tsukishima had asked, or even understood the subtle intricacies of what Akaashi did.
Not that Tsukishima wouldn't let Akaashi do any fucking thing in the world he wanted to him.
Still, he hums to let his boyfriend know he’s listening, hanging on his every soft-spoken word, like a priest having an audience with God himself.
“Okay, open up. I need to do your mascara now.”
Tsukishima makes a face.
“Come on,” Akaashi laughs quietly at him. “I know you hate it, but I’m just doing a little bit today, I promise. I’m going for a more innocent look this time.”
Though when Akaashi pulls back to examine his work, the look in his eyes is anything but.
He turns Tsukishima in his seat so he can finally face himself in the mirror, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees his reflection.
He looks as he always does when Akaashi does his makeup; unbearably, almost unnaturally beautiful.
Sometimes, Akaashi gives him thick eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow, makes his cheekbones look sharper than they really are and puts deep red lipstick on him. Sometimes, it’s a more experimental look, with pale blue eyeshadow and little white clouds painted across the tops of his cheeks.
But tonight, Akaashi went for one of his favorite looks.
His skin looks pale as moonlight, smooth and perfectly unblemished. His cheeks are a soft, rose-petal pink shade with the barest hint of sparkles in the corners of his eyes. The eyeshadow is barely noticeable at all, and the mascara is as light as can be. The black pencil that Akaashi smudged in the corners of his eyes makes them look sharper and brighter, but it’s nothing dramatic.
Tsukishima likes when Akaashi does this kind of makeup the best because he ends up looking the most like himself.
Just, a more elevated version of himself.
A softer, more effeminate looking version of himself.
The kind of version of himself that makes Akaashi’s eyes burn into him like a starving wild animal.
Tsukishima shudders.
“It’s amazing, Keiji,” he tells his boyfriend in a hushed voice.
“What was that?” Akaashi asks in a sharp tone.
Tsukishima swallows hard.
“…Akaashi-sama.”
Akaashi exhales softly, breath tickling the back of Tsukishima’s ear, posture relaxing as it does every time he’s irrevocably handed the reigns, put in charge.
“That’s my perfect boy. Here, we can’t forget the finishing touch.”
Tsukishima obediently purses his lips as Akaashi applies a clear, slightly sticky lipgloss that tastes of artificial strawberries.
“There,” Akaashi sits back and smiles at him, looking happy and relaxed and nothing like the tense version of himself that had walked through the front door not too long ago. Tsukishima smiles warmly back at him, can’t help but feel proud that he had been the thing to please Akaashi enough to turn his mood completely around. “You’re so lovely, Kei. I’m so lucky to have such a pretty doll to practice on.”
An involuntary whine claws its way out of Tsukishima’s throat, and with those few simple words, he’s halfway to begging.
“Pretty enough to kiss, right?”
Akaashi raises an amused eyebrow. “And mess up all my hard work?”
“Please?” Tsukishima’s eyes are wide and pleading. Akaashi might be in control here, but Tsukishima still knows how to get what he wants.
Predictably, Akaashi sighs and resigns himself to Tsukishima’s whims.
“Alright, fine. Just one, though. Don’t get greedy, you understand?”
Tsukishima nods eagerly. In any other headspace, he’d be horribly embarrassed by how easily he was giving in for just one kiss, but right now he’d do anything for Akaashi to touch him and kiss him. To give him anything.
“Go sit on the bed, sweetheart.” Akaashi directs him while running his fingers through his soft, blonde hair. Tsukishima’s eyelids flutter, almost closing completely, but snap back open when Akaashi withdraws his hand. “I’ll be right there, I have to clean everything up first. Go wait for me like a good boy, okay?”
Face burning, Tsukishima nods again. “Yes, Akaashi-sama.”
It’s part of the game, Tsukishima knows. Akaashi likes to test his patience, to make him wait. To know that he has Tsukishima sitting pretty and squirming, desperate for him.
It’s maddening.
Tsukishima loves it.
Finally, after all the palettes, brushes, and tubes have been returned to their proper places, Akaashi joins Tsukishima. He doesn’t sit on the bed with him, instead he gently nudges Tsukishima’s legs apart and stands between them so that he can look down at him. So that Tsukishima has to tilt his head back to look up into his face.
Far from the first time in his life, Tsukishima is struck by how gorgeous his boyfriend is. Sharp, delicate features that make him look just as likely to cut you in half as he is to sing you to sleep.
“Close your eyes.”
Tsukishima quickly obliges. He feels the cool tips of Akaashi’s fingers grip him by the chin and lets his lips part invitingly. Akaashi chuckles at his eagerness and runs his thumb across Tsukishima’s bottom lip, smearing the gloss across it.
“Just one,” Akaashi reminds him firmly. Eyes still closed, Tsukishima nods in agreement. Just one kiss from Akaashi feels like the greatest gift in the world right now.
His heart pounds in his throat and nearly jumps right out of his mouth when he feels Akaashi’s breath on his lips, close enough that if Tsukishima wanted to, he could lean forward and take.
But fuck, it’s like his body is physically incapable of going against Akaashi’s wishes when he’s like this. So instead, he just sits still as a statue and waits for the press of his boyfriend’s soft, warm lips against his.
“Good,” Akaashi praises him after lingering a teasing distance away for a few seconds longer, and rewards Tsukishima with a kiss so tender and light it makes his heart stutter.
Oh, he loves Akaashi. He loves him so fucking much.
Something about the intensity with which that one, universal truth rings through his mind breaks Tsukishima out of his trance for a brief moment. With a sudden fervor, Tsukishima throws his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders and pulls him in closer, deepens the kiss and uses Akaashi’s moment of surprise to slip his tongue into the other man’s mouth.
Akaashi moans and his grip on Tsukishima’s chin tightens until it’s just the right side of painful. His knees hit the bed between Tsukishima’s legs as he lets himself fall further into the kiss, slipping his other hand under the hem of Tsukishima’s stretched out black long sleeve and pushing him backwards with a strong hand in the center of his chest.
They don’t break the kiss, even as Tsukishima falls until his back hits the bed. Still only one kiss, Tsukishima thinks smugly, spreading his legs to let Akaashi fit between them.
Tsukishima gasps sharply when Akaashi drags his fingernails down the side of his ribcage, and the kiss breaks. He mourns its loss immediately.
Akaashi pulls back, panting lightly, hovering over Tsukishima with his dark curls falling into his obsidian eyes. He’d look pretty with a little eyeliner, too, Tsukishima thinks distantly. His lips pull into a dangerous smirk. “You little - “
The sound of the front door bursting open stops the words in their tracks. Both men freeze, and Tsukishima swears he can hear both of their heartbeats switch into overdrive.
“Sorry we’re late, it’s all Bokuto’s fault!”
“What the hell man, I was starving! Besides, we brought home extras for our very favorite boys!” There’s a pause in the shouting where they can only hear the low murmurs of Bokuto and Kuroo’s voices before Bokuto is yelling into the apartment again: “Babes? Where are you guys?”
Akaashi locks heated gazes with Tsukishima and presses a finger to his lips, shushing him before he even speaks.
He clears his throat, and calls back, “In here.”
If Tsukishima didn’t know better, he wouldn’t think Akaashi was up to anything at all given the even tone of his voice. It never failed to amaze him how much control his boyfriend had over himself in these situations, where Tsukishima lost it all.
Just the sound of Bokuto and Kuroo’s footsteps in the kitchen has Tsukishima gripping the sheets tightly, gut tightening in anticipation.
Tsukishima loved the quiet, peacefulness of Akaashi doing his makeup, but undeniably, the very best part of having Akaashi do his makeup was what came afterwards.
When their boyfriends got home and absolutely ruined all of Akaashi’s hard work.
“Oho?” Kuroo calls back, and just the teasing lilt of his voice has Tsukishima salivating. “And what are you two little minxes up to in there?”
“Why don’t you come find out?” Akaashi sounds almost bored when he answers, but Tsukishima knows him well enough to hear the underlying promise. Bokuto and Kuroo both know him well enough to hear it, too, and barely a moment later, their footsteps are coming down the hallway towards the bedroom.
Akaashi climbs off of Tsukishima and stands, straightening his shirt and composing himself, but leaves Tsukishima’s lipgloss smeared across his mouth.
Tsukishima starts to sit up, too, but is quickly pinned back to the bed with a hand on his chest.
“You stay right there.”
Tsukishima swallows hard, just imagining the picture he’s going to make for his boyfriends when they walk in. Legs spread, hanging off the edge of the bed, an old pair of volleyball shorts that had reached the point of being Too Short on him years ago, but that his boyfriends insisted vehemently that he keep anyways. He’s pretty sure the loose black shirt he’s wearing originally belongs to either Kuroo or Bokuto based on the way it hangs off his narrow shoulders, and Akaashi left the hem of it rucked up to the top of his ribcage so that it barely covers his torso at all.
Not to mention, he’s still wearing the makeup.
“You guys better not just be reading, or something boring like tha- ah. Oh.”
Bokuto comes bursting into the room first, but stops dead in his tracks when his eyes fall on the bed.
Or rather, his boyfriend laid out like a meal on the bed.
Bokuto’s eyes, already naturally so wide and expressive, grow impossibly bigger. He’s really never able to hide a single thing he’s feeling, with a face like that, and Tsukishima loves that about him. With two other boyfriends like Kuroo and Akaashi, who were so skilled at keeping their expressions neutral and their emotions hidden when they wanted to, as well as Tsukishima himself, it was refreshing to have someone like Bokuto in their group who couldn’t hide a single damn thing.
“Hm?” Kuroo pops his head around Bokuto curiously when the silver-haired man still makes no move to walk into the room. His lips curl into a cheshire-cat grin when he sees the state his boyfriends are in. “Wouldja look at that, Bo. What ungrateful boyfriends we have, huh? We go out of our way to bring them home some nice, fresh food from our favorite food truck, and what do we get in return? They’ve gone ahead and started without us.”
Akaashi snorts lights. “We’ve barely even begun.”
Kuroo’s eyes darken. “Damn right.”
“I’m going to get my camera,” Akaashi says. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him before I get back,” he warns.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo waves him off. “We know the drill.”
Akaashi gives them a final critical look, lingering especially long on Bokuto, who still hasn’t found his voice yet.
Tsukishima watches, with no small amount of envy, as Akaashi kisses both Bokuto and Kuroo as he brushes past them to get out of the room. Tsukishima wants to be kissed, too, damnit.
But like Kuroo said, they all know the drill.
Nights like these, from start to finish, go a little something like this:
First, either Tsukishima or Akaashi gets stressed. To relieve that stress, Akaashi does Tsukishima’s makeup, and they both end up in a more pleasant headspace. Said pleasant headspace includes slow, simmering horniness, bubbling like a pot boiling on low heat. Depending on how well Tsukishima behaves, they kiss a little bit, keeping it brief and chaste so they don’t ruin Tsukishima’s makeup.
Then, Kuroo and Bokuto get home. The low simmering immediately turns up to a high, intense heat that boils the pot over.
This is the part where Akaashi goes to get his camera.
He spends the rest of the night taking pictures of his boyfriends as Kuroo and Bokuto take Tsukishima and his pristine makeup apart. The pictures are all saved somewhere Akaashi calls his ‘portfolio’. It’s not a real portfolio, no one besides them have ever even seen the photos, but Akaashi swears that one day, he’ll send in the classiest, most artistic ones to some gallery somewhere, and the whole world will see how pretty his little doll is.
A very large part of Tsukishima finds the idea of other people seeing him with makeup on, debauched and blissed out of his mind, mortifying. A quieter, more honest part of himself really likes the idea.
“Which one of you was it?” Bokuto asks, sitting on the bed next to Tsukishima, far enough that not a single inch of their skin touches.
“Akaashi. Bad day at work, I think. We haven’t gotten to talk about it yet.”
Kuroo hums, sitting on Tsukishima’s other side. Unlike Bokuto, he settles a warm thigh alongside Tsukishima’s and the blonde pushes into the touch. Kuroo is always the one who pushes Akaashi’s control in the bedroom more than the others, in little acts of rebellion. Especially in this headspace, Tsukishima always listens to Akaashi’s direct orders, but he rebels in his own way, doing his best to coax his other boyfriends into disobeying him instead, so that Tsukishima is technically innocent every time.
“You did good. He seems a lot better now.”
Tsukishima flushes happily.
“Thank you,” he mumbles. Kuroo grins down at him, pressing one hand into the mattress by his head. Tsukishima catches his breath.
“Dude,” Bokuto says nervously. “Keiji said not to -“
“I heard him,” Kuroo murmurs without taking his eyes away from Tsukishima’s. If there’s one thing Kuroo loves more than breaking Akaashi’s rules to piss him off, it’s breaking Akaashi’s rules to do whatever he wants with Tsukishima. “I like this look on you. Keiji only has himself to blame for making you look so damn kissable, baby.”
“Then kiss me,” Tsukishima blurts, feeling his cheeks heat up at the desperation in his voice. Kuroo’s grin grows.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Bokuto warns, but he still leans in closer to watch when Kuroo bends down to lick along the seam of Tsukishima’s lips.
“Mmm, strawberries.” He sucks Tsukishima’s bottom lip into his mouth, like he wants to taste more, and Tsukishima lets out a breathless whine. He’s been half hard since Akaashi first touched him, and he’s quickly spiraling further, the heat in his gut churning excitedly.
“I wanna taste…” Bokuto grumbles to himself petulantly. Tsukishima and Kuroo both smile into the kiss, endeared by their ridiculous boyfriend who would never in his life disobey Akaashi.
Before the kiss can get any further, Akaashi returns, sighing unhappily.
“What did I say?”
Kuroo grins, nipping Tsukishima’s bottom lip playfully and raising both hands into the air innocently.
“Didn’t lay a single finger on him.”
“Genius,” Bokuto murmurs in awe.
“Off the bed, both of you. I need a few solo shots of Kei.”
“But -“ Bokuto starts to protest, but immediately shuts his mouth when Akaashi levels him with a stare.
Tsukishima used to get uncomfortable and nervous staring down the lens of Akaashi’s fancy DSLR camera alone. He was never a big fan of being the center of attention, of people looking at him and watching him.
Being in this relationship changed all of that about him.
Now, he loves the feeling of having all of his boyfriends’ full attention on him as Akaashi hovers over him, snapping pictures of his face from this angle and that with directions of, “Purse your lips more,” or, “Close your eyes, not all the way, just a little,” or, “That’s perfect, sweetheart, don’t move.”
He’s acutely aware of Bokuto and Kuroo watching, waiting for Akaashi to finally give them permission to pounce, and it just makes him want to play up the moment even more. To lick his lips and bat his eyelashes and take full advantage of all the attention he’s being given.
“Fuckin’ tease,” he thinks he hears Kuroo mutter, but it’s with pride.
“Alright,” Akaashi says finally, standing and scrolling through the pictures. “I think I’m good on solos. Koutarou, you can join him now.”
“What about me?” Kuroo whines.
Akaashi raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
“As I recall, you already had your turn.”
“It was just one kiss! Come on, Keiji, it’s your own fault for making him look like that!”
Tsukishima is vaguely aware of his boyfriends continuing to bicker in the background, but finds himself completely unable to focus on anything else when there’s suddenly a bright, warm pair of eyes glowing like the sun entering his line of sight.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hi, Kou,” Tsukishima smiles softly up at Bokuto. While his other two boyfriends make Tsukishima’s blood boil and heart race in the bedroom, it’s surprisingly Bokuto who always brings him back to center.
“You look really pretty. I don’t think I told you yet.”
Tsukishima takes Bokuto’s hand and tugs his broad, warm body over top of his. He loves being caged in by Bokuto’s larger body like this, feeling small and protected.
“Thank you,” he whispers, tilting his chin up for a kiss. Bokuto happily meets him, enthusiastic and wet as a puppy. After only dating Kuroo for a while before they all got together, Tsukishima got used to his purposeful and teasing sort of kisses. He never expected he would like Bokuto’s straightforward tongue-first-finesse-later approach as much as he does.
Bokuto kisses Tsukishima like he wants to taste every inch of him and devour him whole. He licks into every crevice, the roof of his mouth, the back of his teeth, tangling with Tsukishima’s own tongue. It’s messy and animalistic and Tsukishima loves it all.
Click.
At the sound of Akaashi’s camera, Bokuto pulls back slightly, and there’s a string of saliva still connecting their lips.
Click.
“Oh, that was a good one.”
Bokuto beams and looks up at Akaashi’s praise. “Yeah? I’d be happy to do it again for you, if you need.”
“I’m sure you would,” Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Actually, I had something different in mind. Take both of your shirts off.”
“Yessir,” Bokuto salutes. He easily tugs his own shirt over his head, then helps Tsukishima out of his. He examines the black material in his hand for a moment. “Hey, I think this is mine!”
“Oops,” Tsukishima shrugs.
“That’s okay, babe! You can wear my stuff whenever you want.”
Bokuto smacks a kiss on his forehead, and for some reason, after everything else they’ve done, it makes him blush.
Akaashi maneuvers them so that Bokuto is still on top of Tsukishima, with his elbows on the bed next to his head, and his thighs bracketing Tsukishima’s hips. Bokuto is still in his jeans, and Tsukishima can feel the rough rub of the fabric on his hard cock through his thin gym shorts. He wants to grind up into the feeling, but he knows better than to mess up Akaashi’s shot when he has something particular in mind.
“Now,” Akaashi grabs Bokuto by the back of the head with fingers gripping his hair and pushes him down until his face is buried in the juncture of Tsukishima’s neck. “Mark him.”
Bokuto groans an affirmative and Tsukishima can feel the vibrations against his skin. He barely has time to process Akaashi’s words before there are sharp teeth biting into his neck.
“Ah!” Tsukishima throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure.
Click.
Tsukishima starts to lose himself in the feeling of Bokuto’s warm body pinning him down and his always skillful and eager mouth on his neck. He has some sort of animal instinct that tells him when the pinpricks of pain are just about to tip over to the wrong side of painful, and immediately soothes over the spot with his tongue and lips.
“Kei. Kei, look at me, darling. Right here.”
Tsukishima barely hears Akaashi over the blood rushing in his ears, but blearily he manages to pry his eyes open and looks over Bokuto’s bare shoulder to find Akaashi with his camera poised to capture the exact moment he does.
Click.
Akaashi examines the photo in his camera’s screen with an approving hum.
“You can stop now, Kou. He’s going to cry soon, and I don’t want his mascara to run. Yet.”
Tsukishima wants to protest that he’s not going to cry yet, it’s still early and barely anything has happened yet, but then Bokuto pulls away from his neck with a pop, and without the distraction, Tsukishima realizes that tears are starting to gather at the corners of his eyes.
He looks up at Akaashi, surprised. His boyfriend just smiles knowingly at him, and Tsukishima will never stop being amazed at how much he likes being known by these three amazing men.
“Are you finished with your sadistic power trip yet?” Kuroo drawls, bringing everyone’s attention to him. He crosses his arms over his chest and dares Akaashi with his body language to stop him from touching Tsukishima any longer.
“Go on. I’ve got plans for you, too.”
Akaashi smiles in a way that makes it clear his decision has absolutely nothing to do with Kuroo’s posturing.
This time when Akaashi positions them, Tsukishima finds himself no longer laying on his back, and is instead sitting in Kuroo’s lap on the edge of the bed, his back to Kuroo’s chest and his boyfriend’s strong arms around his waist.
Tsukishima tries his best to sit still while Akaashi snaps away with Bokuto wrapped around him, watching him work over his shoulder, but it’s nearly impossible not to squirm in Kuroo’s lap. As much as he respects Akaashi’s art, sometimes he just wants to smash the camera in his hands so he won’t have to wait any longer. He’s fully, demandingly hard now, and his cock is obscenely tenting the front of his thin shorts. There’s no way that’s not gonna show up in the photos.
“Relax, baby,” Kuroo whispers hotly in his ear and Tsukishima quakes. Kuroo’s chest rumbles with a chuckle, like he knows that he’s doing nothing to help Tsukishima relax at all. Not with the way he whispers in his ear, and definitely not with the way he’s fully hard himself, holding Tsukishima firmly in place so that he can feel the heat of his length pressed against the cleft of his ass.
“Really, Kei,” Akaashi agrees. “You’re too stiff. You need to loosen up.”
“I can help with that,” Kuroo leers. Tsukishima’s body shivers in anticipation, but Akaashi just rolls his eyes.
“Not like that.” He pauses thoughtfully. “You can touch him a little, though. That might help.”
They talk about him like he isn’t even there, and Tsukishima loves and hates the way he lets them.
With slow, predatory movements, Kuroo slips his fingers beneath the waistband of Tsukishima’s shorts, taking him loosely in his hand.
“Orders are orders.” He kisses the side of Tsukishima’s neck as the blonde jerks in his hold, desperate for more friction.
“Oh, fuck, Tetsurou, Tetsu - more, please.”
Kuroo chuckles darkly. “Now, now, don’t get greedy. Just sit back and relax, okay? Can you do that for me, hm?”
Tsukishima starts to shake his head violently, but stops when he catches Akaashi’s eye and remembers who this is all for. He takes a deep, shaky breath and nods, letting his head fall back to rest on Kuroo’s shoulder, turning his face into his neck and forcing his body to go liquid and pliant against him.
“There you go,” Kuroo murmurs, rewarding him with another kiss.
“Much better,” Akaashi praises.
“Fuck,” Bokuto agrees.
Tsukishima stares up at the ceiling and tries to keep his mind connected to his body, but his vision is starting to go white around the edges and he’s trembling with the effort to stay still and not thrust up into Kuroo’s warm, callused hands around him. He’s still gripping him loosely, moving up and down in slow, lazy motions that are all at once too much and not enough.
This time, he’s completely aware of it when he starts to cry.
Akaashi’s camera stop snapping pictures immediately, and Tsukishima vaguely registers Bokuto’s large hands cupping his cheeks and Akaashi’s fingers in his hair and Kuroo kissing his cheek.
”Kei, Kei, sweetheart, lovely, are you with us? Are you okay? Kei, baby? Talk to us, please.”
They fawn all over him with tender touches and sweet words and Tsukishima grabs onto the first people his arms reach and lets himself cry harder.
“I - I’m okay,” he manages to stutter through his tears. “I’m sorry. Sorry, it was kind of a lot, but I just, I wanted to -“ He swallows down the end of that sentence, but Akaashi knows.
He always just knows.
Hands threaded in his hair, dark eyes boring into his, Akaashi says, “You’re doing good, Kei. You’re doing so, so good for me.”
Tsukishima exhales and feels his stuttering heart and buzzing mind settle.
His boyfriends continue to coddle him for a few minutes longer before finally believing him when he says he’s okay to keep going.
“No more teasing,” Akaashi promises, cupping Tsukishima’s face in his hands. “Just let us make you feel good now, alright love?”
It’s these moments, where he’s reminded just how much they all care for one another, that Tsukishima feels like his heart is going to burst with how big it swells. These moments, where Tsukishima knows without a shadow of a doubt, that these three idiots are going to spend their entire lives loving each other, because how could they ever know anything but this? These moments, where he feels all the love that he’s still trying to convince himself he deserves, wrapping around him and holding him tight.
Kuroo slides Tsukishima out of his lap and lays him on his back on the bed again, undressing and laying close to him on one side with Bokuto, also undressed, on the other. His back arches off the bed so far he’s pretty sure he nearly cracks his spine when Kuroo pulls his shorts all the way down his legs and finally, finally takes his cock in his hand and begins stroking in earnest.
“Yea - Yes, fuck, that’s - Shit.”
Tsukishima is spilling an endless stream of nonsense and curse words and his boyfriends’ names from his mouth, until Bokuto slips his tongue inside and the only sounds he can make now are broken moans and high-pitched whines that he’ll be mortified about when he remembers them later.
After a few minutes of just Bokuto and Kuroo working him up in perfect tandem, Tsukishima hears the telltale sound of Akaashi’s camera being placed on the nightstand, then feels the bed dip between his legs. He doesn’t have to break the kiss or even open his eyes to know that Akaashi is drizzling lube over his fingers right now, and it barely surprises him when he feels the slicked up digit circling his entrance.
His breath is coming in ragged pants now, chest heaving and entire body trembling like he’s in the epicenter of an earthquake. Every muscle in his body feels like liquid fire, and he doesn’t think he could move if he tried. So instead, he doesn’t try. He just lets himself melt into the mattress below him, lets his mouth fall open and slack to allow Bokuto any and all access he wants, and finally lets the white edges of his vision creep completely in and steal his awareness of anything but feeling, feeling, feeling.
“You’re so close, baby, you’re shaking,” Kuroo mumbles against his temple, what might have been a few minutes or a few hours later, as far as Tsukishima is aware. “Can’t believe you’ve even lasted this long.”
“I - I - “
Bokuto wraps a strong arm around his waist and holds him like a vice, nosing down the line of his neck.
“We’ve got you, Kei,” he promises. “We have you.”
Akaashi fingers crook inside him - when did he put two in there? - and there’s a gentle kiss being pressed to the sensitive inside of Tsukishima’s thigh.
“Go on, my pretty doll. Put on a good show for us.”
A scream so cracked and raw Tsukishima can’t believe it actually comes out of him echoes through the room and it’s the last thing he’s consciously aware of before his entire body is tensing, every muscle and joint pulling tight like the string of a bow, and then he’s coming in hot ropes all over his own chest, Kuroo’s hand, Bokuto’s shoulder. Some of it even lands on his chin, but he’s too blissed out to care.
“Fuck, Kei.” Kuroo brushes his hair off his forehead with reverent fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Blinking his eyes open and bringing himself back to the present, Tsukishima can’t help but disagree.
The most gorgeous ones here are them.
Kuroo, with his already already usually messy hair sticking up at every possible angle, but still somehow only making him even more dangerously handsome, his hands so callused but so soft, tracing invisible patterns across Tsukishima’s skin, intense feline eyes curved in an adoring smile.
Bokuto, with his eyes shining bright enough to pierce through the darkness of the room, broad shoulders and strong arms forming a protective shield between the occupants of this room and the entire world outside, gentle lips lulling and keeping Tsukishima attached to his body.
And Akaashi. Akaashi, sitting poised and powerful between Tsukishima’s legs, smiling down at him like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be, eyes sleepy and content, deft fingers reaching down to carefully wipe the runny makeup off of Tsukishima’s cheeks.
“Love you,” Tsukishima murmurs, eyelids fluttering shut.
Love you, Kei, they echo back to him, but he’s already floating somewhere far above it all.
The bed dips and shifts around him and his boyfriends situated themselves over and around him, careful not to disturb him too much as they bring each other to their own completion. He drifts into consciousness enough times to catch Bokuto and Kuroo with their tongues hungrily searching each other’s mouths, Bokuto’s hand on Akaashi’s dripping cock, and Kuroo’s hands pulling on his hair the way Tsukishima knows Akaashi likes best.
It’s not much longer before the room goes quiet, save for the sound of four sets of heavy breathing, and three more warm bodies join Tsukishima’s in a boneless heap on the bed. He turns, seeking out the closest person, and his fingers immediately recognize the narrow waist and broad shoulders as Bokuto. A strong arm flings itself over his waist, and he happily curls further into the warmth. He's sure Kuroo and Akaashi are miming their exact position on the other side of the bed, and just the thought of it puts his heart at ease.
“We’re gonna have to relocate soon,” Tsukishima finally breaks the peaceful silence. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels heavy.
Bokuto groans, and shifts his grip to hold him tighter. “Five more minutes,” he whines.
“I’m pretty sure in five more minutes our bodies are going to be permanently cemented together with the amount of come between us.”
“Tsukki, ew!” Bokuto laughs, shaking the entire bed with the force of it. Kuroo and Akaashi laugh as well, but Tsukishima can already hear them starting to untangle themselves and climb out of bed. They’re always the first two to get back on their feet after sex, while Tsukishima and Bokuto tend to laze through the afterglow a bit longer.
Not today, though, Tsukishima grimaces. The tackiness on his skin is starting to get too uncomfortable to bear, and with a little help from Kuroo, he finally manages to separate himself from Bokuto’s clingy arms.
“I’ll go grab some water bottles,” Akaashi announces. Tsukishima licks his lips and nods appreciatively. “Tetsurou, go start running the bath.”
“Aye aye.” Kuroo pops to his feet with a sarcastic salute, smacking a kiss on Akaashi’s cheek as he slides past him out of the room to do his bidding.
“Gross,” Tsukishima comments when Bokuto drags a hand through the spunk covering his chest.
“You think?”
“Obviously.”
Bokuto laughs. “But in a way, isn’t it kind of beautiful? It’s like I have a part of all four of us, right here together, directly over my heart.”
“Still gross.” Tsukishima refuses to acknowledge how sweet - albeit bizarre - the sentiment is out loud, so he just kisses his boyfriend instead.
The bath isn’t quite big enough for all four of them at once, so Tsukishima and Kuroo take the first shift, despite the fact that they're the tallest two and it makes zero sense for them to try and cram their long legs in there together. They run warm hands and washcloths over each others slick skin, ignoring their lazy arousal for the time being, and just focusing on getting clean. When they’re finished, they drain the bath water and fill it back up for Bokuto and Akaashi, before choosing another bedroom to crash in for the night, since Akaashi’s is obviously out of the question.
They end up in Bokuto’s room, since it’s the closest to the bathroom, and Kuroo raids their boyfriend’s drawers for sweatpants that they can borrow before they both crawl under the covers together, hair still damp and skin flushed pink from the heat of the water.
“Hey there.” Kuroo brushes Tsukishima’s hair out of his eyes.
“Oh, hi.” Tsukishima traces a water droplet as it slides it’s way down Kuroo’s jaw. His boyfriend grins fondly at him and takes his hand in his own.
“You know, it’ll never cease to amaze me.”
“What?” Tsukishima frowns in confusion.
“How well we take care of each other.”
“Mmm,” Tsukishima hums sleepily, curling into Kuroo’s strong chest. “Yeah, you guys ‘re the best.”
“Kei,” Kuroo laughs fondly and taps him on the nose. “I’m talking about you, you dork.”
“Me?” Tsukishima blinks up at him.
From his point of view, every time they do something like this, it feels like he’s the one being taken care of. Sometimes he feels selfish about it, and it’s something they’ve discussed as a group many times to ease his worries, but they always assured him that they all enjoyed their sessions and very much enjoyed themselves just as much as he did.
But even after accepting that all of his boyfriends got just as much out of this as he did, he never thought about it as him ‘taking care’ of any of them.
“This entire night happened because of you.” Kuroo points out. “Because you wanted to take care of Akaashi and make him feel better.”
Tsukishima thinks about how tense and frustrated Akaashi looked when he walked in the door today, compared to how sated and happy he was just a few moments ago when he caught Tsukishima by the waist on his way out of the bathroom and kissed him sweetly.
Maybe they were all just taking care of each other, all the time.
“Yeah, well. I’d do anything for you guys, or whatever,” Tsukishima grumbles, feeling his face heat up.
Kuroo gasps, obnoxiously loud.
“That’s so romantic, Tsukki! Do you mean it?”
“I said whatever!” Tsukishima snaps, though it lacks any real heat. Kuroo knows it, too, and tugs at Tsukishima’s shoulder until he’s half on top of his boyfriend, solid arms around his waist.
“We’d do anything for you, too, you know?” Kuroo says seriously.
“I know.”
And the thing is, Tsukishima really does. They only prove it to each other every day of their lives, so it’s hard not to.
When Akaashi and Bokuto join them, Bokuto wrapping himself around Kuroo’s back on one side and Akaashi slipping in behind Tsukishima on the other, they slot together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle.
A messy puzzle, maybe. An abstract puzzle that has no rhyme or reason, but when you put it all together it just works. They just work because they love each other.
“Keiji,” Tsukishima murmurs, searching out his boyfriend’s hand behind him.
Akaashi squeezes it and hums in acknowledgement.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, it’s okay. Everything’s okay now.” He finishes on an exhale, and it’s serene enough that Tsukishima knows he’s telling the truth, so he doesn’t push.
Akaashi kisses the back of his neck and Kuroo reaches over him to encase both of their hands in his and Bokuto stretches his arm so that it can wrap around both Tsukishima and Kuroo at once, and yeah.
Everything will always be okay now, as long as they’re all together, taking care of each other, loving with their whole hearts.
Tsukishima yawns and smacks his lips, the taste of artificial strawberry still sweet on his tongue.